The Art of Boxing & Music
After being hit three or more times in the face, I could feel my stamina dropping, so I motioned to my boxing partner to take a break.
I have been boxing pretty religiously now for three to four months. It’s not my first time boxing—about nine years ago, I started primarily out of curiosity. Since I did martial arts as a child, I figured boxing could be an interesting way to get into shape. And I fell deeply in love with it.
At that time, I was falling in love with everything logical and strategic. A few years prior, I had studied piano and composition and taken every music theory and jazz course available at my local community college. I studied everything from Bach to Stravinsky, then later Schoenberg, Webern, Messiaen, Ives, and other 20th-century composers. Simultaneously, I was studying and playing jazz.
I noticed a commonality among all of these artists—the ability to creatively fluctuate between strategy and unique personal expression.
A year or so later, I accidentally took a class I wasn’t supposed to (but thought I was): Symbolic Logic. I assumed from the description that we would be debating and using logical strategies to win arguments, mainly because it was listed as a philosophy class.
I was wrong.
It quickly turned into a mathematics class where arguments were simplified into letters and symbols, representing different argument styles. It was another bridge from philosophy to mathematics, eventually leading to what we now know as computer programming. Remarkably, this was invented in the 1800s.
I decided to stick with the class, and I’m glad I did. Learning symbolic logic gave me a greater appreciation for the creative genius of the composers I had studied. It also helped me write better essays in my other classes by allowing me to experiment with different logical styles and explore all angles of a thesis.
Then boxing came in.
I immediately recognized the strategic elements of boxing: how certain punches are thrown just to set up a completely different series of punches; how footwork and head movement keep you from being an easy target and catch your opponent off guard. Even the type of defensive guard you use dictates a different strategy.
I experienced a paradigm shift when I realized the strategy behind boxing.
So let’s get back to my friend throwing punches at my face...
That specific night of training felt special. Maybe it was because we had more autonomy in our training due to one of our coaches being ill, or perhaps it was the light-hearted and fun vibe among my boxing colleagues. Whatever it was, we all felt a bit loose due to the novelty of the situation.
The change of pace made me think differently about my own sparring style. I started to get more comfortable with being hit and seeing the punches instead of closing my eyes every time a punch came at me. For a few brief moments, I felt a familiar sensation.
I began to feel the combination of self-expression and strategy that I associated with playing and studying music. I started to feel the creative side of boxing—the part where your uniqueness guides your strategy.
I understood this feeling primarily because of my experience with music. I had observed that every musical artist has a “sound” they eventually lean into, just like every boxer has a fighting style they lean into. When I say “sound,” I mean something more subtle than just the genre. It could be a rhythmic cadence, a unique timbre, or a combination of musical elements in a specific relationship that creates the uniqueness of the artist's sound.
I know from experience how hard it is to develop your unique style when you start something new as an adult. As I used to tell my students at Everyone's Music School:
“All the scales, chords, repertoire, and everything I’m teaching you are just tools to strengthen your relationship with your instrument. Just like in a romantic relationship, over time, you need to do activities together to grow closer and strengthen that bond.”
To develop your style, you need to feel comfortable with your craft, regardless of the discipline. It also requires thinking for yourself and sometimes making decisions that go against what you were taught, hence the phrase:
“Learn the rules to break the rules.”
Most importantly, it requires time. Time and exposure build comfort.
For example, when I write, I feel confident in my stylistic choices (most of the time), but when I compose music, it took years to develop my sound. I learned piano and composition in my late teens and early twenties, so it took more than a decade of on-and-off playing to understand my unique voice in music. Even now, it feels more like embracing truths about myself than innovating.
When I started feeling this same sensation in boxing, I got excited. I realized I need to put in a lot more work into the craft while also leaning into my own unique expression. I need to fight more and build comfort in that space to express myself strategically.
I need to build my endurance and stamina to be the most authentic version of myself in the ring. And most importantly, I need to have gratitude for being able to do what I love.